Lust for Life
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Voldemort considers the Devil an old friend. Too bad the Devil doesn't see him the same way.


**Lust for Life**

I met a man with a limp once, walking in the woods. He was looking for an honest man. He found me instead.

What we discussed that day in the woods has never been spoken of since. We're friends after a fashion, the devil and I. our relationship is one made from mutual respect and tolerance for each other's goals. I don't bother him and he stays out of my way.

Being a man and mortal, I am fallible and have my share of foolish mistakes. I never dreamed that my lust for life, the thing that had sustained me and given me meaning, would become my downfall. They say that a great man's fall is always in direct ratio to the heights he had reached. When I fell the first time, a celebration of spectacular dimensions took place. I returned, thinking that I would triumph.

I was defeated by a boy with barely a wisp of beard on his face. The humiliation of it still makes me burn now, though I am burning in another way too.

After my defeat, I swam in a cold river. The river was black, the sky was black, and I felt the slimy tickling of black creatures with me in the water. A terror I have never experienced before drove me to swim upstream, against the current and against many more of those slimed things. I suspect that they were souls too stupid to realize that they still had the power to save themselves.

I broke out of a cave, the water pouring out around me down a gorge. It was night and the brilliant stars were cold. I didn't know where I was or whether I was alive or dead. I felt like a stranger in my body.

"It's a nice night," he said, seated on an outcropping. I don't know how long he was there before I noticed him. He wore a different face from the last time we met, but I knew it was him. No matter what shape he assumed, his club foot remained. I confess to having a phobia for those cursed with a cloven foot because of him.

I didn't reply. I'd forgotten how to use my mouth. Perhaps I was alive, then, if I was in my mortal body. I met his eyes with boldness I didn't feel. In his eyes flashed peculiar brutality. I felt fear freeze my heart and constrict my diaphragm like a snake's poison.

"Still, nice night or not, you shouldn't be out in it. We had an agreement, Tom. As long as you didn't get yourself killed, I wouldn't let your body age and rot. But you did get yourself killed, so its time for you to die now."

I shook my head, still mute.

"You won't go?" he tutted and shook his head, "Don't be stubborn, Tom. We had an agreement. I was waiting for you at the gates, you know. It's lucky that I thought to look for you here."

He stood and limped over to me, a sly look passing over his face. His eyes stayed the same no matter what expression the rest of his face carried. They were cold and told me that there was no chance of my escaping this time. I was too stupid to see it at the time. I held my ground, thinking I could fight my way out of it.

A smile twisted his lips, "Well, perhaps we could make another little bargain. You would like another chance at life?"

I nodded with eagerness and forced my muscles to choke out the words, "I would like that very much."

"That isn't much of a surprise. Some things never change," his smile widened. His eyes were still fish-cold. "Then I propose a game. Beat me at dominoes and you can go free. Lose to me and your soul is mine to devour. I won't lie: I am hoping that I win. Your soul is charred black just the way I like it."

His words struck me cold but I didn't show my fear. I accepted the challenge like a fool.

We sat down on the grass and a floor table appeared from nowhere. From his pocket he took out a sack and poured it out. The devil owned a very old set of dominoes, the kind made from sheep's bones. Or perhaps they weren't sheep's bones, knowing their owner.

I put up a valiant effort, but he beat me of course.

Thorns bound me in place before the thought of flight even crossed my mind. A flash of starlight told me he had a knife just before it cut me open. The last thing I was aware of was him smiling at me and saying,

"You know, you could have beaten me with that drive to survive you've got. Your soul is as strong as twelve others. You're practically a demon yourself. I guess it's too bad that your strength blinded you."

He stood and pocketed my heart for later. Alone, he chucked and said, "Too late now, of course."

~000~

End Lust for Lust

I KNOW THIS IS WEIRD. Voldemort brings it out in me. Every time I sit down to write something nice about him, something bizarre comes out instead. What am I going to do, eh? I can't do anything but post this and hope somebody likes it. If not, no hard feelings.


End file.
